He never finished his sentence. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding. Courtlaw. ‘Monsieur, my wife intended not to anger you,’ he said in a tone of apology. The man’s passion became almost unbearable at the thought of losing her. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence.
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